The Little Missuss needs closure.

Earlier this week, while at work, she heard the news that kept Bayview abuzz the past few days.

“Big Fanny,” a turkey that gained fame for its plump rump and its habit of walking into traffic on Bayview Road with two other smaller turkeys, was hit by a Volvo. She died at the scene.

Above all else, the Little Missuss is an animal lover. Dogs, cats, gnats, doesn’t matter. She would hug a slug or wink at a weasel if she ever found one or both in our back yard.

The Little Missuss knew

Big Fanny well, having passed her on the way to work many times. Like most other drivers, she would slow down or stop as Big Fanny and friends made their way across the road.

When she heard about Big Fanny’s untimely departure, she was very upset.

It was still bothering her when she went to her Weight Watchers meeting this week. The Little Missuss told me that when she got to the meeting, she asked if everyone had heard about the death of Big Fanny. (I was not there, so

I don’t know if others in the room knew what the Little Missuss was talking about, or if they started to scan the room looking for someone who was missing.)

The Little Missuss asked for a moment of silence for Big Fanny, and the room went quiet.

I was touched, thinking that sometimes it takes a big turkey to pull people together, to unite us as one. I started to think about the upcoming presidential election.

The more I thought about Big Fanny, the more it sunk in that it just wasn’t fair. Turkeys shouldn’t die by the side of the road. They should go out in style; filled with cornbred stuffing on a table complete with cole slaw, candied yams and all the trimmings.

Later that night, when she got home, the Little Missuss said it still didn’t seem real. Maybe it would have been different, she said, if she had seen the accident happen, or had seen some big turkey feathers by the side of the road, to know for sure that

Big Fanny had crossed over.

I tried to console her. If she really wanted to remember Big Fanny, I said, she should make a memorial and put it by the side of the road and set some flowers underneath it.

She liked the idea, a lot better than my first idea to have turkey burgers in Big Fanny’s honor.

We then moved on to discussing the proper memorial. I suggested we make a sign shaped like a turkey.

Remember in kindergarten how you used your hand to make the outline of a turkey, and then colored in the feathers, I asked.

I could do the same thing on a piece of plywood, then use a power saw to cut it out.

Add a couple of nails on a stick — which, incidentally, reminded me of the special tool the Old Man used to get the brothers Kelly to do their household chores — and bada!bing! Instant turkey memorial.

The Little Missuss loved the idea. And given my skills with power tools, she was especially happy to learn that I would use the leftover pieces of wood after I made the turkey-shaped sign to make another memorial for the thumb I was sure to cut off with my

circular saw. She thought it was totally win-win.

Next issue: The people have

spoken.